What Are Little Girls Made Of?
by knitterlywitch
Summary: An internet friend of Penelope is kidnapped on her way to a friend's house where she is couch surfing. Where is she? Who took her? Why?   Ships: Penelope/Morgan  later chapters , Penelope/Other women  mentioned  Penelope/Kevin Lynch  mentioned
1. Chapter 1

**What Are Little Girls Made Of?**

**Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth.**

**- Benjamin Disraeli**

"We got a case," announced Jennifer Jareau, entering the room and setting the file she held in her hand on the table. "Seventeen year old girl kidnapped in Des Moines Iowa. She was reported missing by her school friends when she didn't show up for school three days in a row. Her name is Rita Maxwell."

"Are we sure she hasn't just been skipping classes or that she ran away?" asked Derrek Morgan from the far end of the table, slouching and twirling a pen between his fingers.

"Positive," said JJ, leaning over the table, still not sitting down. "According to both her friends and teachers, she literally lives for school. They say since her mother threw her out six months ago that it was really the only thing keeping her from suicide."

"So she's been staying with her dad, I take it?" asked Rossi.

"No, he lives in Pittsburgh and she hasn't had contact with him since she was five. She and her mother both have a restraining order," said JJ.

"Then where's she been staying?" asked Reid, furrowing his brow.

"Couch hopping, probably," said Morgan, "That was what my friends did when they were having problems with their parents."

"That's what the friends say. She was supposed to stay with a friend from Thursday to yesterday and she never showed up."

"Why'd her mother kick her out?" asked Prentiss. She sounded more than a little angry.

"She came out to her mother as a lesbian and according to her friends, her mother snapped and kicked her out. She showed up at one of her teachers' house an hour later and since then she's set up as schedule for who she says with when."

Suddenly something clicked in Penelope's head. "Um, JJ, guys, I think I know this girl."

"You mean you think you can get into her head, Baby Girl? That's great," said Morgan with a small grin. "We'll have you be a profiler yet."

"No, I mean I like literally think I know her. She's a member of this knitting and crochet forum I'm part of. At least I think she is. All the details fit. We-we're in the same group there. It's called Sci-Fi Stitchers. It's for Sci-Fi fans that knit. She does knit, right JJ?"

"Yeah," said JJ looking down at the papers mystified. "she does; and crochets. Her favorite hobbies."

"This is good," said Prentiss excitedly, "What else do you know about her?"

"She likes Sci-Fi and fantasy, Torchwood, Doctor Who, Star Trek, loves Star Trek, Harry Potter. She ships Janto, erm, Jack/ Ianto in Torchwood; they're the canon gay couple… Um, is that helpful?"

"Fantasy and Science Fiction suggests detachment and the fact that she 'ships' as you say, two male characters instead of a male and a female, suggests she wants equality in her relationships," suggested Rossi.

"Or it could just mean she's _gay," _said Morgan, "Which she is."

"I think Rossi's partly right about this, actually, Morgan. She does want to escape and she would want to be equal in a relationship. Her mother was abusive, her father was abusive, until she changed schools two years ago, her classmates were abusive. She wants to escape and be treated with respect," said JJ, looking over the files. Penelope nodded and voiced her agreement.

"If she wants to escape, then we have to be one-hundred percent sure she didn't run away. Are we sure about that?" asked Hotchner, finally speaking up.

"She has a full ride scholarship to Bryn Mawr in the fall; she can't go if she doesn't graduate. Trust me, she wouldn't run. Aside from that, if she didn't like the family she was staying with for the week, she could just move to the next one on her list," said Garcia.

"In that case," said Reid pensively, "our prime suspect should probably be the father."

"Alright," agreed Hotchner, "Everyone get your go-bags, it's wheels up in an hour." then he paused. "Also, Garcia, I'd like for you to come with us."

"Um, sir, are you sure that's alright? I'm not too close to the case, am I?"

"Do _you _think you're too close to this case?"

"No sir, I want to work it. This girl, I know her inside and out. I just thought…"

"The moment I think your judgment on anything is compromised, I'll let you know Garcia. Understood?"

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir."

"One more thing, Garcia."

"Yes?"

"I'd like for Reid to stay with you when we get there and set up."

Penelope didn't understand why he'd need to say with her, but she didn't question it. "Alright, sir."

"You know we might not find her alive, right? You have to be prepared for that."

"I can't believe that she's not alive sir. I know the odds are slim now that it's the third day, but I can't, not even for a second believe she's dead."

* * *

><p>Reid was already ready and waiting in Penelope's office when she got there to get her things. His go-bag was by his feet and he stood in the center of the room looking uncomfortable. His fingers were laced together.<p>

"So," he asked, scratching at the back of his head with his right hand, "how well do you know Rita?"

"Pretty well. Like I said, she's in one of my knitting groups. We met last year. Actually when I heard her mother kicked her out, I offered to let her stay with me."

Reid looked perplexed. "You were going to let a complete stranger live with you?"

"I snooped first," Garcia reassured him, "But even if I hadn't, I couldn't let a kid like that live on the streets for something she couldn't control. When I came out to my parents at sixteen, they said they'd support me no matter who I loved. She needs at least one person in her life like that."

Reid stared at his feet. "I thought you liked guys, you know, because you and Morgan are always flirting and you and Kevin Lynch-"

"I'm bisexual, Reid. I do like men. But I like women too. Don't tell anyone on the team. Only Morgan knows. And I guess now you do too."

* * *

><p>Rita Maxwell felt so thirsty. She hadn't had a drink since the night before when the man who kidnapped her brought her a bottle of water. She hadn't eaten since she had gotten here. She wasn't sure when that was. The room she was in looked like something from some screwed up idea of what a little girl's room should look like. It was pink and everything was covered in ruffles. There were no windows and no way to tell what time it was. She wore a shackle around her left ankle and had been forced into a ruffled gingham dress.<p>

'No one even knows you're missing,' said the dark voice in her head. 'They think you ran away.'

'That isn't true,' said another voice, 'Your friends at school will know you're gone. And the people on Sci-Fi Stitchers will too. Or Becca. Someone will know you're gone.'

Someone removed the overhead ceiling panel and lowered down a picnic basket using a pulley and winch. "Enjoy your lunch," said a woman's voice.

"Please, please, let me out of here! Hey, let me out!" Rita screamed. But the woman didn't seem to care.

A/N: To Be Continued. Please, R and R.


	2. Chapter 2

When the team reached Des Moines, they were greeted by the officer working the case, a Detective Larson.

"Agent Hotchner?" asked Detective Larson, a short, pudgy balding man in his mid-forties, extending a hand. Hotch took it in his and shook it.

"Yeah, that's me. This is my team," she pointed at the group and then introduced them individually, "Jennifer Jareau, our media liaison, I believe you talked to her on the phone, our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, and special agents, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss and Dr. Spencer Reid."

"My daughter Tiffany is a good friend of Rita and I'm glad you decided to come help us with this case," he paused and then said, "This way, we have a room set up for you to work this way."

"Are you sure this isn't just a case of parental kidnapping?" asked Reid.

"We're very sure. I had my officers call her dad's PO who says he checked in on Mr. Maxwell this morning. He's still in Pittsburgh."

"Would it be alright for Agent Morgan and I to speak to your daughter and some of Rita's other friends?" asked Emily, setting her jacket on the table as they reached the room.

"Actually, Emily, I'd like for you and Morgan to question the mother. I'm sending Garcia and Reid to question the friends and teachers," said Hotchner.

This sent Penelope into a small panic. "Um, sir, I'm not a profiler... I don't think I should do it."

"You helped us with interview Christopher Summers in the case in Wyoming, you can help us here. And you have Reid to help you."

Penelope wanted to say no, but she knew Hotch would have her do it anyway. "Okay, sir."

* * *

><p>Neither Reid nor Penelope wanted to drive the car to the school, so they decided to play, rock paper, scissors for it.<p>

"Okay, on the count of three," said Morgan, who Penelope roped into being the judge. "One, two, THREE."

Penelope had paper and Reid had rock.

"Looks like you have to drive, Baby Girl," said Morgan grinning as he handed her the suburban keys and walking to the other car where Prentiss stood.

Penelope and Reid got into the car, and as she put the keys in the ignition she complained, "I really hate driving these big huge cars. They make me feel like I'm driving a school bus. Why can't we use Priis instead?

"Prii?" asked Reid.

"The plural of Prius. So says the almighty Toyota."

"Actually, the plural, if you're going with Latin should actually Priora, because priora is the plural of Prius the word."

"Yeah, well, I think Prii sounds better," She paused at the stoplight and looked over at Reid. "Do you know which way to the school?"

"Yeah," said Reid, pulling out directions from the small file he carried with him. "You take a right there and then you, um, go straight until you see a fire station and then you turn left."

* * *

><p>"So," said Morgan, "Are you sure you won't flip out at the mother when we get there?"<p>

"I can't make any promises, but I'll try," said Emily. "I just don't get how a mother can kick out her own daughter. I can understand if she was doing drugs or strangling the cats or if she got thrown out of school, but as far as we know, she's clean and sober, has no signs of being a sociopath and is on her way to one of the best women's colleges in the country. What kind of mother throws out a kid like that just because they're gay?"

"She could be religious. Or, you know, just a jerk."

They reached the house. It was a ranch style house painted light blue with green trim. The yard was filled with children's toys, including a large plastic swing set.

Emily rang the doorbell. An attractive blonde woman wearing a pair of oversized sweats opened the door. She looked too young to have a seventeen year old daughter, so Emily asked, "Are you Mrs. Maxwell?"

"Used to be. Then I divorced the son of a bitch. Now I'm Mrs. Thenardier."

Emily had to stop herself from muttering that her last name was fitting.

"We're from the FBI, we're here to talk to you about your daughter, Rita," said Morgan.

This seemed to make Mrs. Thenardier's demeanor change instantly. "You can't make me take that ungrateful little dyke back. I talked to my lawyer. He says you can't."

"We're not here to have you take your daughter back; we're here to talk to you about her disappearance," said Morgan.

"Disappearance? What are you talking about? She just called me maybe fifteen minutes ago. I took the kids out to the store for groceries and when I came back she had left a message on my machine."

This seemed to make both Morgan and Emily tense. "Could we listen to this message, Mrs. Thenardier? "

"Alright. But the regular cops can't find out about my in-home business if you do."

"Fine," said Emily, not understanding what in-home business Mrs. Thenardier was talking about, until they followed her into the house and saw thirteen children or more playing in the living room.

"I run a daycare. I'm supposed to have two more assistance and a license for this many kids, but the processes for both, in this economy, are impossible. This, and that bitches' father's child support are the only things keeping us afloat."

Emily remembered to tell someone at the office that she was taking her daughter's child support instead of it going to her daughter.

"Here, I'll play the message for you," she said pressing one or two buttons on the phone.

'_Um… hi mom,' _said Rita's voice from the phone. She sounded like she was crying and like she was being coerced into saying everything she said. _'I'm sorry I'm the way I am. I promise when I come back, I'll um, be normal just like…. Like God intended. I promise. They'll make me better here. I'm fine. They'll make me better.' _Then there was a click like the phone hung up.

"Morgan," said Emily, "I think we know what the Unsub is doing with her."

* * *

><p>"This is a pretty school," commented Penelope, walking past the trophy case in the main hallway. "Very clean. Not like my high school, that place was a mess."<p>

"We think a clean environment is the most conducive to learning, clean and organized. That's why our students wear uniforms, " said the principal, a tall African American woman with short hair. She wore an eggplant colored skirt suit that seemed to move with her as she walked down the hallway.

"I don't think we got your name, Ms-?" asked Reid.

"I forgot to introduce myself, how foolish of me. I'm Georgina Holloway. And you are?"

"Doctor Spencer Reid."

"Penelope Garcia, ma'am."

"We're all very worried about Rita here. She's one of our shining stars here at Hillside High. We're a small school, being a charter school so anyone going missing is a big deal, but she's student council president, the head of the Gay Straight Alliance, the Sci-Fi club, in the drama and art clubs, and on Quiz bowl and the top candidate for valedictorian, it's more like losing a staff member than a student. She's had perfect attendance up to this point too. Bet you the first thing she'll ask me, when you find her is if the days she was kidnapped counted as an excused or unexcused absence."

"She does a lot," commented Reid.

"Yeah, she likes being active in the school. I think it makes her feel useful. She's become even more extroverted since she and her mother had that disagreement." She paused when they reached a door labeled auditorium. "The other children, Rita's friends, are in here. Most of them are rather shy. If you'd like I could come in with you."

"No, ma'am, I think me and agent Garcia can handle them ourselves. Thank you," said Reid calmly, opening the door to the large room.

"Think nothing of it. When you're ready to interview the teachers I have them in the lounge outside my office."

There were only fifteen or sixteen student in the auditorium. They were all spread out, with only small clusters here and there.

"All from different cliques?" asked Penelope.

"Probably. Rita could be the only thing they have in common, which would explain why they aren't sitting together."

"I'll take the techies and the artsy people, you take the quiz bowl kids and student council members and then we switch off?"

"Actually, I think it would be better if we take students one by one and interview them together."

"Alright, this should be fun," said Penelope sarcastically.

* * *

><p>Rita was sobbing now, not even pulling at the chain around her ankle anymore.<p>

'They made me call. They made me read from that card. Now no one will look for me if they even were before. I got to get out of here.'

A television screen on the wall suddenly turned on. It was playing porn. Or, at least, Rita thought it was porn, but then she noticed the 'actors' looked and sounded a lot like her captors. She turned her back towards the screen.

"See, this is nice. This is normal, Rita. It's normal for a woman to love a man. It feels nice," said the female captor on the screen. Rita tried to ignore it. Realizing that it wasn't working, she just sobbed louder.

She wanted to be at school, at the mall, at 'Gay Youth Resources', anywhere but here. She hoped that someone would find her soon. If not, she worried that being forced to watch her kidnappers having sex would be the least of her problems.

She pulled at her chain, realizing the drywall that held the chain to the wall was starting to crack. Just a little more pulling and she'd be free. What then, she didn't know. But she could move. That was good.

* * *

><p>"Reparative therapy," said Morgan walking into the room where JJ, Rossi and Hotch sat." That's what the unsub is doing to her."<p>

A picture of Rita was on the board behind Hotchner. It was the first time Emily saw her. She had light red hair cut short, pale skin and freckles. She wore a large smirk on her face. She was in her school uniform.

"How do you know?" asked Hotchner.

"She was forced to call her mother, probably reading from a card. At least that was what it sounded like. In the message she promised to become 'normal' and be 'the way God intended'. If that isn't our unsub doing reparative therapy, I don't know what is."

"What's reparative therapy?" asked JJ.

"It is a completely discredited practice that is supposed to 'repair' gay people into straight people. At best, it can make the person celibate, at worst it doesn't work at all and causes huge psychological issues," said Emily.

"So, our unsub is a shrink?" asked Rossi.

"Probably not an actual psychologist. Either they're a very religious person who is an 'ex-gay' themselves, a former psychologist who lost their license or something similar," said Hotchner.

"They have to be able to overpower Rita. According to the mother she's taken self-defense classes at the Y and always carries mace. That would take an older guy," said Morgan.

"But not so old that they'd be injured in the process, early twenties to mid-forties," said Rossi.

"He could have a partner. A woman or child to lure Rita to the car where he lies in wait," said Emily.

"We shouldn't jump to that conclusion until we have proof," said Hotchner. "Morgan, call Garcia and Reid, see what they've learned from the students and staff. Prentiss, go tell Detective Larson and his team we're ready to give the profile.

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later, Detective Larson had most of his street patrol gathered in a large conference room. Hotchner stood before them.<p>

"The man we're looking for is between the ages of 25 and 46. He's a white male, most likely very religious. He has an intense belief that homosexuality is wrong, which may mean he's a latent homosexual himself. He'll drive a car large enough to transport an unconscious person without being noticed, a delivery van of some sort or a plain ordinary minivan with tinted windows. It's not likely to be flashy in color. Both this unsub and his vehicle are likely to go unnoticed anywhere," Hotchner stepped aside and Morgan stepped up.

"We believe he kidnapped Rita Maxwell in order to perform reparative therapy, a discredited practice that intends to turn homosexuals into heterosexuals, on her. Hopefully this means he doesn't intend to hurt her, but sometimes reparative therapy also includes so called 'corrective rape', which is sexual assault by someone of the opposite sex for the supposed purpose of changing one's sexuality. So finding Rita as soon as possible is still our goal."

"Look for people hanging around known gay establishments handing out fliers for ex-gay camps or reparative therapy. Though these people are unlikely to _be_ our unsub, they could quite easily know him," finished Emily. "Thank you."

Once the officers left the room, Penelope walked over to Hotchner, Morgan and Emily.

"Do you really think that the unsub is, you know,"

"We don't know, Baby Girl, but we'll find Rita. I promise you, we'll find her."

Someone in the far corner of the room cleared her throat. Penelope turned around and saw a petite young woman in her late teens or early twenties looking at the floor.

"I saw who kidnapped Rita," said the girl. "I didn't know it at the time but I saw them."

"Who are you?" asked Morgan.

"Becca Fayne. I'm Rita's girlfriend."


End file.
